


Her Favorite Flowers Are the White Ones

by fairchristabel



Series: Her Favorite Flowers Are the White Ones [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairchristabel/pseuds/fairchristabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swan Queen Valentine's fic. Emma decides Valentine's Day is the perfect day to make Regina aware of Emma's feelings for her. Post-Curse, no Cora or Hook in this Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Favorite Flowers Are the White Ones

2 WEEKS BEFORE VALENTINE’S

Emma checked her watch as she bounded up the stairs outside of her apartment. 4:00. Good. Henry should be home from school now. She paused in front of the door and took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. Just be cool. Just a normal day here. Emma unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping into the loft.  
Henry was sitting at the table, a half-empty glass of juice and a small tower of papers and books in front of him. He looked up as the door opened and smiled at her happily. “Emma, you’re home!”

Emma strolled, no, she sauntered, into the kitchen and nonchalantly tossed her keys on the counter. They skidded across the surface and plummeted to the hardwood, coming to a jingling halt after spinning several feet across the floor. Emma ignored them. “What up H-dog?” Yep, cool and casual. That was the key, casualness. Casualty? Whatever. Emma smiled at Henry and leaned back against the refrigerator, crossing her arms. Wait, uncrossed is better, more relaxed, right? Or hands on the hips. No, just one hand on the hip. Other hand in a pocket. Back or front? Maybe—

“Are you okay?”

Front pocket. Definitely. Emma zeroed in on Henry, who was giving her a puzzled look. “Yeah, kid, I’m awesome. Why?”

“Because you just started flapping your arms around. And you haven’t blinked in like, two minutes.”

Emma closed her eyes deliberately then opened them. “Thanks. So, speaking of your mom—”

“Um, we weren’t.”

“What kind of flowers does she like? I mean, she likes trees, so she must like flowers, right? Or is that more of a cat/dog thing? Like how people are either a cat person or a dog person, can you only be a tree person or a flower person? Or does she—”

“Emma!”

“Hmm?” God, if she was going to have to get Regina a tree, she was screwed. How do you even give someone a tree? Would a florist deliver one? How much would that cost? A baby tree would probably be cheaper though, right? Or should she—a paper ball hit Emma’s cheek and bounced to the ground. She looked around and saw Henry standing by his stool, another projectile in his hand. He dropped his arm and walked over to her.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, squinting up at Emma.

Emma sighed. For such a bright kid, he was not following this at all. Maybe it was her own fault. She was being too laid back. Henry obviously wasn’t able to focus the proper attention on her question. “I’m talking about flowers, Henry. As in, the kind your mom likes. What would those be?”

“Um, roses, I guess,” Henry answered with a shrug, stepping back and grabbing his drink before walking over to the couch and plopping down in front of the television.

Emma pinched her nose. This was so not going to plan. “Kid, everybody likes roses,” she said as she followed Henry over to the couch and sat down beside him. “I could ask anybody out on the street what kind of flower they like and like ninety-seven-and-a-half percent of them would say roses. So I need you to be a little more specific here, give me something to work with. Regina’s favorite smell, maybe, or color.”

Henry pulled his leg up on the couch and turned to face Emma. “Why do you want to know?”

Emma froze. Crap, of course now he decides to pay attention. She gave him her biggest smile. “Just collecting information. You know, Operation Cobra stuff.”

“Operation Cobra’s over. We already broke the curse,” Henry replied in his best duh tone, scratching the side of his nose.

“I know,” Emma replied hastily. “I was talking about, umm, Operation Cobra, Part Two.”

Henry’s eyes lit up as he scooted closer to Emma. “Part Two? What’s Part Two?”

“Wellllllll,” Emma said, drawing it out, “Part Two is learning everything we can about everyone’s Fairy Tale identity.”

“Oh, cool. So we’re building a profile for everyone then,” Henry said with a pleased smile on his face.

“You got it, kid.”

“Okay. So, I get why we’re starting with my mom,” Henry said, “but why do you want to know about flowers?”

“It’s for the, uh, psychological part of the profile,” Emma replied.

“Well, she does always have some white flowers in the hallway and dining room.”

“Okay,” Emma said encouragingly, leaning forward. This was sounding more promising. Maybe she was finally getting somewhere with him. “That’s good. What kind of flowers are they?”

“I dunno,” Henry shrugged, turning back to the TV. “White ones.”

 

* * * * *

 

3 DAYS BEFORE VALENTINE’S

 

Emma stepped onto the front porch of Mary Mar—her parents’ new house. She so did not want to talk to her mother about this, but time was running low and so were her options of people to talk to. Emma knocked on the front door and stepped back, ducking as a small bluebird flew at her face.  
God, that was the worst thing about visiting here. The freaking birds. They’re everywhere. A cardinal landed on Emma’s shoulder. “Ack!” Emma jumped back, shimmying her shoulders and jostling the bird loose. She bumped into the railing, waking a small barn owl, who hooted at her, then stared at her shoulder speculatively, shaking his wings out. “Don’t even think about it buddy,” Emma warned, brushing her shoulder off and backing towards the front door.

“Emma!”

“Hi,” Emma grunted out as she was engulfed in a hug. Gah, she’d been hugged more in this last year than she had been her whole life previously. Maybe it was a Fairy Tale thing, but everyone here was super-into hugging. Hugs hello, hugs good-bye, hugs for good luck, hugs just for hugging—

“Come in, come in,” Snow said as she pulled Emma along into the entryway.

Emma pushed the door shut behind her then turned to follow Snow down the hallway. “I think you have even more birds now than the last time I was here.”

“They just keep showing up,” Snow answered over her shoulder. “I just can’t turn them away.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re the bird lady,” Emma said with a grin as they walked into the living room and settled on the couch.

Snow smiled at Emma. “I’m so glad you stopped by. David is going to be so sad he missed you.”

“Well, I kind of just came to talk to you actually,” Emma admitted.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, Emma,” Snow said, reaching forward and clasping one of Emma’s hands in her own.

“I know,” Emma replied. She glanced around the room to make sure they were alone. The last thing she need was one of Snow’s feathery friends listening in to her conversation and going off and tweeting about it to all his bird friends around town. Ha, birds tweeting. Man, that is some good stuff—

“Emma? Emma!” Snow squeezed Emma’s hand. “Are you feeling all right?”

Emma shook her head. “Who, me? I’m great.”

Snow looked at her with concern. “Are you sure? Henry said you’ve been acting a bit strange lately, unfocused and staring off into space.”

Emma scoffed. “Unfocused? If anything, I’m too focused. Super-focused, even.”

“Uh-huh,” Snow replied as she let go of Emma’s hand and leaned back into the couch. “And would this super-focus of yours have anything to do with why you came to see me today?”

Emma nodded and took a deep breath. Then another. She exhaled loudly then said “You know Valentine’s Day is coming up, right?”

Snow smiled. “Yes, I think your father has something special planned for us.”

Emma's face scrunched up. "Ew, no, don't tell me, I don't need to know that."

Snow blushed. “Not like that! Just a romantic date,” she protested. A slow smile slipped over her features. “Of course, maybe afterwards, well—”

 

“Nooooo, stop talking now,” Emma commanded, throwing her arm up in front of her face.

Snow laughed and tugged on Emma’s arm. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s focus on you. What did you want to talk about?”

Emma shook her head, eyes still hidden by her forearm. “Nope, can’t think about anything else yet.”

“C’mon, you mentioned Valentine’s. Do you have a date? Are you hoping a special someone will ask you out?”

Emma finally lowered her hand and looked at Snow. “Not exactly. Actually, I’m hoping to make someone my Valentine.”

“That’s my girl,” Snow said fondly, “taking the initiative. So who is he, do I know him?”

Emma shifted in her seat. Well, it was now or never. “It’s actually not a him? More of a her.”

“Huh,” Snow said, staring at Emma for a moment. “That’s, actually not that surprising.”

“Ouch, Mom,” Emma said with a laugh, leaning back from Snow.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way sweetie,” Snow replied, settling her hand on Emma’s leg. “When I first met you, you were so much more worldly than anyone I knew. You could have told me anything about yourself and I would’ve just gone along with it and assumed that’s the way things are outside of Storybrooke. And now that I know you, I know you have enough love in your heart for anyone, no matter who they are,” Snow said softly, squeezing Emma’s knee. “So, what can I do to help?”

Emma let out a long breath. “Here’s the thing. She’s kind of a hard read. So I’ve ordered roses to send to her. I mean, roses are traditional, right? Everybody likes them, but, are they too traditional? Maybe it’ll seem like I’m not really trying, or putting any thought into it. You know? But if not flowers, then what? Chocolate? I’m pretty sure we’re not at the jewelry stage yet—”

“Emma,” Snow interrupted her, “I think roses are lovely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Snow replied firmly. “And yes, they are traditional, but it’s Valentine’s Day. You go with the classics.”

“Okay,” Emma said, slumping even deeper into the couch. She leaned over and rested her head on Snow’s shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, sweetie. Any time.”

Emma sighed, then pushed herself up into a sitting position and stood. “I should get going, I’ve got to be at work in a couple of hours, and there are a few errands I need to take care of first.”

Snow stood as well. “And could these errands possibly have something to do with a special someone?” she teased.

“Possibly,” Emma smiled. She stretched then headed to the front door, Snow trailing behind her. Emma hesitated, hand on the knob as she turned back to Snow. “Thanks again for the talk. I—” Emma paused as she saw a small creature dart across the floor. Was that a mouse? Wait, was that another mouse? With a hat? “You have mice in here,” Emma said to Snow, pointing to the far corner. “With hats.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Snow said, waving her hand carelessly. “Cinderella stopped by earlier. They probably followed her in.”

 

* * * * *

 

VALENTINE’S DAY

 

Emma yawned as she ambled into the kitchen in search of coffee. Henry sat hunched over the counter, a half-eaten bowl of cereal pushed to the side. She ruffled Henry’s hair as she passed, earning her a grunt. “Whatcha doin’ kid?”

“Finishing my Valentine’s card.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma asked as she opened a cupboard and pulled down her favorite mug. “Got a special girl you’re gonna give it to?” she teased as she turned towards the coffeemaker, surprised to find it already brewing. “Henry, did you start this?”

He looked up and rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard.”

Emma walked over and grabbed Henry around the shoulders, kissing his head. “You are my favorite son, you know that?”

Henry squirmed away, a pleased smile on his face. “I’m your only son,” he pointed out.

“And smart to boot,” Emma said with a grin. She reached across and poured herself a cup of coffee, then sat next to Henry. “So, who’s the card for,” she asked, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s for my mom,” he answered, coloring in one last heart before looking up at Emma. “I figured you could give it to her when you go to see her later.”

Emma froze, mug halfway to her mouth, before carefully setting the full cup down. “What do you mean, when I go to see her?”

“Emma, I know what Operation Cobra, Part Two is.”

“Yeah, it’s the plan to make a profile of everyone—”

“Then how come you’re only getting information on my mom?”

Emma looked at Henry. Good point. “Well, that’s just as far as I’ve gotten—”

“It’s okay, Emma,” Henry interrupted her. “I figured it out a few days ago.”

“You did, huh?” Emma asked. “Well, I wish you’d tell me, because I’m still not quite sure what I’m doing.”

“You’re the White Knight, right? And what do all knights need?”

Emma raised her coffee cup and took a sip. It was way too early in the morning for these kinds of philosophical, metaphorical, metaphysical? Whatever, questions. She glanced at Henry, who was staring expectantly at her. She took another sip. “I don’t know, kid. A sword? Armor? A horse maybe?”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “A knight can have all of those things, but can live without them if they have to. What a knight needs is to be a champion. A knight needs a queen.”

“So, you’re saying, your mom and me—”

“It makes perfect sense,” Henry said excitedly. “I don’t know why I never thought about it before, but everything points to it. You are my mom’s White Knight.”

Emma exhaled, setting her coffee down. “That all sounds good, kid, but this is your mom we’re talking about here. I don’t think all this destiny stuff is gonna fly with her.”

“Well, yeah, we won’t tell her about that yet. You’ll just have to win her over first.”

“Easier said than done,” Emma muttered as she stood and walked over to the sink to wash out her mug. She turned back to Henry, cup dangling from one finger. “By the way, how did you figure out what I was up to?”

Henry shrugged as he stood up and set his finished card by the door. “Well, you’ve been acting weird, staring into space, asking about Mom’s favorite smells and foods, and her neck size, which I don’t think is a thing, so I knew something strange was going on.”

“Huh,” Emma replied. “But still, how did you guess—”

“Also, I saw your receipt from Game of Thorns on the table,” Henry said with a smile. He stepped over to Emma and hugged her tightly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Emma.”

“Happy Valentine’s, Henry.”

 

* * * * *

 

Emma pulled her yellow Bug into Regina’s driveway and killed the engine. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She was fine, she could totally do this. Just go into the Evil Queen’s fortress and vanquish her. No big. It’s practically a rite of passage in the Enchanted Forest, right? She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

She still wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Maybe something about Regina’s eyes or—

“Ms. Swan?”

“Geez!” Emma jerked in her seat, banging her knee on the steering wheel. She glanced out her window to see an angry? amused? aroused? annoyed? arch? How many a-words could be used to describe Regina anyway? Abrasive, abrupt, accomplished, hmm, appealing, appetizing—

“Ms. Swan!”

Emma winced, Regina was definitely leaning more towards angry now. “One minute,” Emma called, holding up a finger. She shook her head, curls bouncing around her face. Okay, focus time. Emma reached for her handle and pulled it, jostling her door until it pushed open. Her dress was tighter than anything she’d worn in a while, so she carefully maneuvered herself out of the driver’s seat, one hand on the door and one on the wheel.

“Ms. Swan,” Regina’s voice was considerably softer. “I take it since you’re here, dressed like that, you must be the one responsible for the constant interruptions in my day.”

Emma shrugged with a small smile, “Guilty.”

Regina stared at her for a few long moments, her lips finally curving upward as she offered, “Well, would you like to see what it is you have wrought?” Without waiting for a reply, Regina turned and walked back up her drive.

Emma moved to follow, but at her first step her heel skidded on loose gravel and she felt herself pitch forward. Oh, crap, this is gonna feel awesome—Emma felt herself jerk to a halt as two arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist.

“Careful, Ms. Swan,” Regina murmured as she carefully set Emma back on her feet. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Thanks,” Emma muttered as she straightened her dress and followed Regina up the path. “And you can call me Emma, you know,” she added as she strode up on the porch beside Regina.

“I know,” Regina answered with a smile. She opened her door and stepped back to allow Emma to pass her.

Emma stepped into Regina’s foyer and looked around. “Looks like somebody has an admirer.”

“Or a stalker,” Regina said as she pulled the door closed behind them and walked further into the room. “These,” she said, pointing at the large bouquets of red roses that rested on a table, the floor, and even the stairs, “started arriving at eight o’clock this morning, one on the hour, every hour, until six tonight, which I’m assuming is the last one, seeing as how you’re here now.”

Emma nodded slowly and grinned. “I don’t claim to know what a stalker would think, but if they are from an admirer, then I think that would be a good assumption.”

“So that leaves me with eleven bouquets, all signed From Henry.”

“Mm-hmm, that’s what it looks like to me.”

“So that would be—”

“One for every Valentine’s you’ve loved Henry,” Emma said softly.

“Oh,” Regina breathed out, her eyes shining a bit brighter as she looked at Emma.

Emma felt her breath catch as she looked at Regina. She’d always known Regina was beautiful, but right now, with love shining in her eyes, she was positively glowing. Emma felt dizzy, like an immense weight was pushing down on her chest. “He made you a card,” she pushed out. When had the air gotten so thick? “Henry did. I left it in the car though, I can go get it—”

“That’s quite all right Ms. Swan,” Regina replied, taking Emma’s arm and leading her into the living room. “But that doesn’t explain all of this,” she said, gesturing at the white flowers that covered every surface in the spacious area.

From where she stood Emma could see lilies and roses and daisies and irises, moonflowers and dahlias and hydrangeas, and several others whose names she didn’t know. The flowers made a solid white carpet that flowed into the hall and beyond.

Regina stepped closer to Emma, her fingertips resting lightly on Emma’s elbow. “The dining room looks just like this, and they’ve even spread into the kitchen. From what I’ve seen so far, there are at least twenty-three different types of flowers,” Regina said softly, her fingers ghosting down Emma’s arm and slipping into her palm.

“Our son is very smart,” Emma began, blowing out a shaky breath, “but he doesn’t know much about flowers. I asked him what your favorite kind was, and he said the white ones.”

“So, what, you just called up Mr. French and bought every white flower he owned?” Regina asked with a small laugh.

Emma shrugged sheepishly and ducked her head. “Pretty much.”

Regina’s breath caught. “Oh, Emma,” she said, reaching out and raising Emma’s chin.

Emma’s eyes met Regina’s. “You said my name.”

“Yes, I did, you brave, silly girl.”

“Do you like the flowers?” Emma asked softly.

“I do,” Regina replied, her thumb caressing Emma’s wrist where their hands lay entwined.

“Good,” Emma said, stepping closer to Regina, “so do I.”

“Emma,” Regina warned in a slightly shaky voice, “this won’t be easy.”

“I know.”

“Your parents, when they find out. Henry—”

“Already knows,” Emma answered, her free hand trailing up Regina’s arm, across her shoulder, and coming to rest behind her neck, “and approves.”

“He does?”

“He does. And besides you, his is the only opinion that matters in this, okay?”

“Okay,” Regina breathed out, her whole body relaxing as she closed her eyes and tilted her head up.

Emma paused. This was actually happening. She was about to kiss Regina Mills, right here, on the mouth, in her house. Man, this day was totally shooting to the top of her best days ever list. Geez, Regina was ridiculously gorgeous, almost unfairly so. But she was so battered and bruised on the inside, Emma just wanted to take Regina and lock her up, and hug her forever. Huh, maybe the hugging thing was genetic after all, perhaps—

“Ms. Swan, stop thinking.”

Emma blinked and looked down at Regina, who had a small smile on her face. “Huh?”

“You’re missing the moment.”

“Whoops, right,” Emma grinned. She closed her eyes and leaned in, letting her mouth brush softly against Regina’s. Regina tugged her closer and moaned—holy crap Regina just moaned. This was even better than she ever imagined. Too bad she couldn’t leave Henry with her parents tonight, because if just kissing Regina is this amazing then other stuff would be—

“Emma, focus.”

“Sorry!”


End file.
